Fuck, I need to handle this shit before it escalates any further.
I stand in the hallway and listen to his footsteps recede. The house settles around me. Margot's already in bed. Max went to his room an hour ago—I heard his door close, the creak of his bed, the silence after.
I feel like I’m losing my mind. Losing control.
Something has to give. And it can't be Max.
I go to my office. Pour three glasses of bourbon. Set them on the desk. Pull out my phone.
Two texts. Same message. One to Bane. One to Zero.
My office. Now.
Bane arrives first. Reads the room—the bourbon, my face. His jaw sets.
"What's this?"
"Sit down."
He doesn't. He walks to the bookcase instead. Arms crossed.
Zero arrives thirty seconds later. Gym clothes. Wrapped knuckles. He crosses to the window. His default.
I close the door. Lock it.
Same configuration as the night we planned the rescue. Bourbon, closed door, the three of us in our positions. But the blueprints are gone. The crisis is different.
"Two things," I say. "Richard cornered earlier. He's been looking at the Q3 routing—Jerry flagged the offshore irregularities and Richard's been pulling threads on his own. He doesn't have the picture yet, but he knows the numbers are wrong. And he told me if he starts to feel like we're running things into the ground, he's coming back to the desk."
"Coming back," Bane repeats. Flat.
"Full audit. Every account, every shell, every routing number."
"How much does he actually know?" Zero asks.
"Not enough. But enough to know he should know more." I let that settle. "We'll deal with Richard. But that's not why I called you in here."
I look at Bane. Hold his gaze.
"Max told me what happened in the facility."
"He told me himself. Two weeks ago. We were—" I stop. "It doesn't matter. What matters is he stopped in the middle of something he wanted. Something we both wanted. And told me the truth."
Zero's eyes track between us.
Bane's jaw works. "What did he tell you?"
"That you knotted him. During his heat. That you chose not to bite."
Bane closes his eyes. One second. Two. When he opens them: "He told you."
"He told me because he saw what's happening between us. The competition. The fractures." I pick up my bourbon. Hold it. "He stopped me to tell me about you. To protectus." I gesture between the three of us.
Bane processes this. I watch the realization move through him—that Max could have hidden it, could have let the night continue, could have had what he wanted and dealt with the fallout later.
Instead he chose honesty. Chose the relationship I have with my brothers over his own body.
"And what did you do?" Bane asks. Quiet. Already knowing.
